This is still around, so...
For atheists, the paradoilia* of the numbskulled and religious is an unending source of hilarity. Witness the still-current story of the Methuen, MA woman who saw Jesus on the bottom of her iron.
There is a charming disingenuousness to the narrative, if you follow the link. However, the story opens some insight into instances of paradoilia. Our heroine was under some little emotional stress and had been so for some time. Stress opens the mind to receive coincidental information that isn't there. Absent religion, we identify this correctly as a minor mental dysfunction that is a symptom of stress. In the case of the religiously indoctrinated, the mind has been pre-programmed to seek a deeper meaning.
Thus, the minds of those indoctrinated into Christianity, and rendered vulnerable by stress, may see the face of Jesus staring at them from the bottom of their iron. The mind of the skeptic, on the other hand, may see an immediate reason to grab a Brillo (r) pad.
*Those of you fond of Greek linguistic roots may prefer pareidoilia.
There is a charming disingenuousness to the narrative, if you follow the link. However, the story opens some insight into instances of paradoilia. Our heroine was under some little emotional stress and had been so for some time. Stress opens the mind to receive coincidental information that isn't there. Absent religion, we identify this correctly as a minor mental dysfunction that is a symptom of stress. In the case of the religiously indoctrinated, the mind has been pre-programmed to seek a deeper meaning.
Thus, the minds of those indoctrinated into Christianity, and rendered vulnerable by stress, may see the face of Jesus staring at them from the bottom of their iron. The mind of the skeptic, on the other hand, may see an immediate reason to grab a Brillo (r) pad.
*Those of you fond of Greek linguistic roots may prefer pareidoilia.
Labels: hallucinations
posted by Uncle | 00:21
1 Comments:
There's a scene in "Lush Life" by Richard Price where there's apparently the face of Jesus (or maybe Mary? I forget) in the condensation pattern on the glass door of the refrigerator case in a NYC bodega. People are lined up for blocks to pay admission to see it. One of the cops in the book, who is pissed at the bodega's owner for refusing to cooperate in an investigation, goes in and nonchalantly opens and closes the refrigerator door. Oops, no more Jesus.
I love that piece of writing :-)
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home